White flowers, candles, and the flesh representing the deceased students.
At first, Takakai hadn't connected these Obsessions. But after discussing with Maki, he began to notice them—and the hidden links between them.
Only two people would pay respects to the dead students: Hirano Sousuke himself and his teacher.
Previously, Hirano hadn't acknowledged Takakai's [Teacher] identity. Takakai had only glimpsed things he couldn't see before after realizing the connection. Clearly, this hidden identity required awareness and roleplay to take effect—just like how, in Nutty Putty Cave, he could only issue orders after entering the general's office.
So, if Takakai—now holding the [Teacher] hidden identity—performed a memorial ritual, could he solidify this role in Hirano's perception? Enough to ensure he wouldn't be shot on sight after releasing and capturing Alice?
After all, that unnamed teacher had been part of Fujika Academy—a researcher, no less. It made sense for him to carry Alice's presence. If Takakai could reinforce his [Teacher] identity in Hirano's eyes, perhaps he could avoid annihilation for summoning Alice.
Worth a try.
Takakai quickly relayed his plan to Kumami. After some thought, she gestured for him to proceed cautiously, suggesting he test it outside the courthouse and warn the group via mental link if danger arose.
The other players were still debating how to truly fulfill the core Remnant's demands. For safety, Kumami hadn't exposed Takakai's group—officially, the Shinomiya family was merely assisting her [Slacker Alliance]. Compared to proper Crimson Moon players, Takakai's power was lacking. Plus, his admission that [Alice's Obsessions were taken from the dungeon] meant he'd already crossed a Crimson Moon player. Until they identified who'd lost those Obsessions, it was best to keep his presence hidden.
As for Yotsuya Miko's secrecy? Even simpler. Her supernatural perception made her a prime target—any Crimson Moon player could repurpose her as a detection tool. While most high-level players cooperated peacefully, that goodwill didn't extend to the weak. If someone decided to exploit them, Takakai's group lacked the strength to resist. At least, that was Kumami's assessment—unaware of his reset ability, she saw no way for him to defy malicious players.
Once decided, Takakai didn't hesitate. With Miko, he slipped out of the courthouse to a secluded area. After confirming no observers lurked nearby, he retrieved the white flowers, red candles, and the fused flesh Obsession from his watch.
He prepared two sets—one placed aside, the other in his hands.
Setting the flesh on the ground, he lit a candle and placed it before the mass. The twitching meat stilled instantly, as if lifeless.
When he added the white flower, the distorted grudges within the Obsession seemed to calm, as though soothed.
Miko watched silently from a short distance.
In her vision, phantom students appeared—their eyes closed, expressions peaceful, as if sleeping.
Then her gaze shifted.
She saw a figure approach, kneeling beside Takakai to place another candle and flower.
A faint flame flickered to life.
When Takakai turned, he found an extra candle and flower before the flesh—though no one stood there.
[No matter what we do, we can't change the tragedies that already happened. These rituals aren't for the dead—they're for us. Just self-comfort, nothing more.]
A voice, weary and resigned, seemed to echo in the air.
[I know. But I'll still come here. Every year, without fail. I still fear, hate, and loathe everything that happened—but I can't forget. Even if only to remind myself, I'll return.]
A younger voice, firm and resolute, answered from beside Takakai.
[Does remembering even matter? You don't need forgiveness. And me? Heh… I don't deserve any.]
The first voice laughed bitterly, laced with deep uncertainty.
[I do need forgiveness. Because I'm the only one who survived, aren't I? So many tried to escape that hell before me—yet only I lived. That makes me… different. I can't forget what happened here. I've decided, sensei—I'll take the police exam. Even as a lowly auxiliary officer, I must do something.]
[Is that so? Then do your best. But don't push yourself too hard. You just happened to live. You owe no one. Unlike me, you bear no sin. Keep a clear conscience—that's enough.]
[Mm. Then… see you next year, sensei. I'll keep writing.]
[Brat, you're a nuisance. The postman comes every other day because of you—what kind of hermit life is this? The village already gossips about the "weird old man on the hill."]
[Even so, I'll keep writing. Because I'm the only one left who can talk to you, right?]
[…Do as you like.]
The illusionary conversation faded.
Takakai turned—but saw no sign of Hirano. Only the twin candles and flowers proved his presence.
It worked.
"Senpai? Did it… succeed?"
Miko approached cautiously. She'd seen Hirano appear and vanish but hadn't heard the exchange.
"Yeah. Now comes the final step."
Takakai nodded, meeting her gaze. She immediately sensed the shift in his aura—his [Teacher] identity was now fully active.
Looking past her, he locked eyes with the distant, grinning phantom of Alice.
Slowly, his lips curled into a smile—wider, more exaggerated than hers.
So much so that Miko flinched.
Then he spoke.
"It's time to end this."